


"Mexicanos al Grito D'Aradia!" or "How Karkat Learned the Meaning of Revolution Day"

by mitspeiler



Series: A Very Homestuck History [1]
Category: Homestuck, Mexico - Fandom
Genre: Action, Adventure, Chases, Crack, Escapes, F/M, Humor, Mexican culture, Robots, Romance, Shipping, Swordfights, The Revolution, Torture, True Love, history facts, history lies, laughs, stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2650484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitspeiler/pseuds/mitspeiler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aradia decides to teach Karkat about their Mexican heritage on Novembr 20th, Revolution Day.  Therefore she takes him and some of her friends through a portal in time to the Revolution, so they can participate in some of the horrible injustices and become Educated.  It's gonna be a wild fucking ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Mexicanos al Grito D'Aradia!" or "How Karkat Learned the Meaning of Revolution Day"

**Author's Note:**

> I am so totally Mexican and I rarely get to explore that side of my identity, so please bear with me and AHUAAAAAAAA

[ ](http://imgur.com/VSEF5d9)

Karkat was still recovering from the massive swell of patriotism that had shaken his frame during the Fourth of July and just chilling out on the couch, remembering the horrors of war.  “Dave,” he said to the other boy, currently crouched on the floor with an Xbox controller and slaying righteous amounts of n00bs, “Dave, fuck you.”

Suddenly the door was kicked down by a red leather cowboy boot.  Aradia strode in, walking tall and proud in a black skirt and black jacket, all elaborately embroidered with thread of silver, wearing an enormous white hat over her woolly black curls, her side-buns bouncing in excitement.  Karkat stared, muttering about how someone could land a plane on that thing.  Dave continued playing as she rushed Karkat and pulled him into a hug.  “Feliz dia de la Revolución, Karkat!” she said.

“I don’t speak Spanish,” he said, pushing her away.  “Remember how I was raised by a cult who thought I was the new Jesus or whatever…?”

“It’s okay Karkat,” she said, patting his head like a dog.  “Nobody’s perfect.  Just let out a nice grito of celebration and we can get on with the party!”

At that Aradia belted out a high pitched “AHUAAAAA” that pretty much shook the house.

John and Dirk rushed downstairs, hastily replacing their red, white and blue regalia with a sombrero and a dashing charo outfit, respectively.  “We are so fucking ready for Revolution day,” John said.

Dirk drew his katana, breast swelling with patriotism.  “I will bring you the head of Porfirio Díaz.”

There was a slight pause as Karkat looked at his friends in confusion while Dave’s buttons tapped and clicked under his fingers.  “Looks like you’re the whitest person in the room today,” John muttered under his breath.  Karkat growled.

Dave finally spoke.  “Yo I thought Mexican independence day was in spring.  Cinco de Mayo and whatnot.”

Dirk facepalmed.  “I thought I raised you better than that.”

Aradia meanwhile pulled out a 30-30 carbine and shot Dave’s Xbox to pieces.  Hellfire burning from her eyes, she smiled wide; it was a wretched and beautiful thing to behold, more a bearing of teeth than a smile.  “Cinco de Mayo is commercialized American trashcakes celebrating the rise of a horrible dictator.  I think you need to learn yourself a lesson!”

Dave muttered an apology just as Aradia raised her hand and tore open a portal in time in the shape of a clock made from blood-red auroras and the signs of an alien zodiac.  With a loud _*whump*_ Dave disappeared, leaving his glasses sitting on the floor, and the clock portal shut with the sound of a thousand screaming genocides.  The clock briefly opened, allowing his time-displaced hand to reach back inside and fetch them before closing again.

Karkat coughed.  “So what is Revolution Day then?  Was it when that priest guy did the scream?”

Aradia shook her head, her curls bouncing energetically.  “Nope!  That is on September 16th, and it’s Mexican Independence Day.  It celebrates an event that took place just over a hundred years earlier!”

John snickered.  “Can we do that field trip next year?”

“Hell yes!” Aradia, John, and Dirk fistbumped.

Karkat ran his fingers through his head.  “I dunno, I’m already super American.  Do I have it in me to celebrate my hispanic heritage?”

Aradia squished his cheeks.  “Of course you do! And I will help you along the way!”  She let out another ear splitting “AHUAAAAAA” and tore open yet another time portal.

 

Karkat woke up wearing a brown peasant shirt and an ascot.  “How did I not suspect this?” he asked, feeling very disappointed in himself.

He was riding on a horse through the middle of the desert, surrounded by cacti. He and his friends made up a cavalry column, led by Aradia in the front.  “Let’s sing a marching ballad as we go to crush the Federal Army!” she declared, and let loose in a surprisingly powerful yet not entirely unexpected alto;

[“Carabina treinta treinta, que los rebeldes portaban!”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tMEF_P-8nno)

Everyone joined in, and even Karkat was humming along by the end.

“So wait,” Karkat asked, riding up to the front, “who are we fighting and why?”

“President Porfirio Díaz,” Aradia replied.  “He has been rigging elections for decades and holding near-absolute power over the country.  Everyone hates him; from the liberal elites—”

Eridan whooped from the back of the column, “when I said wwe needed to keep the country out of the hands of the savvages I didn’t mean he should keep it for himself—

Aradia cleared her throat to drown out the racism; “to the Indians—”

Rufioh declared, “that’s actually the correct word to use for us here in Mexico, unles you want to call us by our actual tribal names, which a lot of the Weeabros actually prefer—”

“To the old-school landed gentry whose land he stole to build—”

Suddenly, a high screeching whistle like the very furnaces of hell pierced the air.  A massive armored train decorated with golden federal eagles and a massive mask shaped like a skull, spewing blue fire and smoke from its smokestacks, plowed through the desert towards them, carrying a battalion of Federal Drones.  The train swerved around the column and Aradia ordered her troops to fire just as the mechanical beasts deployed.  “Damn you Díaz!" She said, rattling her saber, “I knew your plots to mechanize the country were in fact evil!”  She spat on the floor.  “PROGRESS MY ASS!”

They were blue and insectlike, covered in huge pointy bits, with horrible, razorsharp mustaches and fists bearing buckets of weaponry.  One threw its payload of swords at Dirk, who parried each blade right back into its owner, pinning him to the side of the rushing death-train.  John rode his horse right up to the frontline, weaving in and out of hails of machinegun fire and horrible nanolazers, then leapt for one of the drones and stove in its head with his Warhammer.  Everything went silent, from the Federal Drones the brave revolutionaries.  Even the circling doom train seemed to hush its hellish chugging to listen in.

John plucked the titanium mustache from the wreckage, standing on the dead drone’s shoulders and placing the deadly facial hair on his lips.  “Viva Mexico!” he shouted, raising his hammer.

“Viva!” the rebels shouted.

“Mexico lindo!”

“Viva!”

“Viva la madre patria!”

“Viva!”

“Viva la revolución!”

“VIVA!”

With that last shout the earth shook, and Karkat felt pride in his breast that made his eye weep and his pupils transform into an eagle eating a serpent on top of a cactus and an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, respectively.

“Yes,” he said, “we are going to slaughter these mechanized fucktrucks, and then we’re gonna find Díaz, and WE ARE GONNA SHOVE OUR FISTS RIGHT UP HIS ASS!”  Karkat drew his war sickle and rode up to a Federa Drone, cleanly bisecting it with a swipe of his weapon.  “QUE CHINGEN A SUS PUTAS MADRES LOS HIJOS BASTARDO DE UN GUAY PUDRIDO!”

“QUE CHINGEN!!!” The column roared as the national anthem [inexplicably began to play](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q8T9g7memUk), and charged the enemy, horses, antique swords, discount guns and good old fashioned chutzpah inexplicably tearing the drones to shreds.

A lone warrior jumped down from his horse, the ground cracking under his massive weight, and dashed along at inhuman speeds towards the speeding train.  With a leap, he slammed into the horrible steel plated skullmask with his fist—

And the whole train shuddered as the cowcatcher was stoved in around his forearm.  “I never got to say my bit,” he rumbled.  The man turned around, revealing himself to be Equius, but with a positively _heroic_ mustache.  No mere mortal could carry the weight of that facial hair; only a true hero.  “I am one of those landed gentries who was robbed, and I have a STRONG dislike for people other than me oppressing my peons!”  He lifted up Aradia and Karkat, hurling them on top of the now crippled doom-train.  “Go!” he said, “Díaz is here!  Destroy him and end this war!”

Karkat bounced as his ass hit the cold steep floor of the train.  “I didn’t actually think he would be on here, and I killed a super bishonen version of King George III with a flaming Statue of Liberty a few months ago,” he said, helping Aradia to her feet.

“Karkat,” she said, touching his face again.  He felt himself grow hot.  “We need to face him as our true selves,” she declared, running a hand up to his hair and striping off his black wig, revealing his albino hair.  “Why do you hide it like that?”

“At first I was ashamed,” he said quietly.  Then he grinned a sharp grin.  “Now I just don’t want to look like Dave.”

Aradia smiled at him.  “You’re way cuter than Dave.”

Karkat felt the floor shake underneath his feet, and it wasn’t just because the train was being bombarded with cannons.  He felt his eyes go wide as he admired his friend’s coy smile; the curve of her lips, the twinkle in her eyes.  By God she was beautiful—

While he was distracted she reach out and snatched the contact lenses out of his eyes and Karkat fell to the floor, writhing in pain.  “Don’t think I forgot about these,” she said, sounding strict yet playful.  “Everyone will know you are a proud albino Mexican man of the family Vantas and not some poser white boy with normal skin pigmentation!”

And then a gunshot rang out.  Or rather, another gunshot, much closer and more distinct sounding than the reports of carnage from the battle below, and Aradia fell to the floor also, holding her bleeding shoulder.

“I’m afraid that’s as far as you get loves,” said Calliope, striding up to the prone pair, a revolver in her hand and a union jack on her tie.

“Let me guess,” Karkat growled, “those beef-eating limeys were backing the Porfirian government!”

“I take exception to that!” said the aforementioned limey, stamping her foot in frustration.  “But…” she blushed a little bit, “he had _so much silver!_   You know what they say about Mexico; so far from God, so close to the United States!”

“That doesn’t even apply here!” Said Aradia, rising to her feet.  She had lost her rifle and her saber, and had only a bullwhip in her uninjured hand.  She slashed it through the air and with a mighty crack, the gun was out of Calliope’s hands.

“I can handle her,” she said, preparing to fight.  “You take care of Díaz.”  Karkat turned to leave, but a grip on his shoulder stopped him.  Aradia turned him around, and kissed him so hard that her teeth scratched his gums.  [The air was torn by the melancholy sound of Vicente Fernandez song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0U12sjwseU).  The kiss was terrible, in the same way that Galadriel was terrible, that the dawn and the sea were terrible.  He could not resist the kiss, and in fact was in complete awe of it.  Aradia held him there in a smooch that was like death, her grip nearly crushing his shoulder and her mouth numbing his face.  He came to the realization that he was enjoying it, and immediately afterward the realization that he was a masochist.  She set him down.

He stared at her with a terrified look on his face.  “If we live wanna go steady?” He asked, voice dull.  “And where the _fuck_ is that music coming from!?  Why is every one of these adventures a musical!?”

Aradia smirked, lowering the rim of her gigantic hat.  “Don’t you know Karkat?  _Every_ old Mexican movie is a musical.”  And with that she drop-kicked Calliope, who had been sitting there, watching and screaming as the two of them ruined her OTPs, just as planned.  She got a fantastic panty shot and an exploded nose for her trouble.

 

Karkat busted down the door to President Díaz’s private cabin.  The room was massive, decked out in huge, gaudy golden decorations, and a massive fresco depicting the battle of Puebla, Díaz’s first great achievement.

[ ](http://imgur.com/dahWLCJ)

And there, sitting on a throne of gold studded with huge, fake, glittery, pink and fuchsia rhinestones, was he, the dreaded General, His Imperious Condescension.  “What up Nubby MacShouts?” he said, leering down at Karkat seductively.

Karkat was lost in that mustache.  It took up most of the room, trailing down from the throne like the tendrils of an angry beast, moving and writhing like a living thing, a queen octopus with eight million arms, a terrible, non-euclidean forest of eternal night into which nothing could come and nothing could escape.  It was a hell of Mustache.  It could not be called anything less than a place, its very own plain of existence.  Only by the power of such a ‘stache could this war have come to be.

“What’s up,” said Karkat, “is me kicking your ass.”

He pulled a lighter from his pocket, struck it, and threw it into the mustache.  The room was ablaze instantly.

 

Outside, the fighters were still battling against the Federal Drones when a massive explosion shook the earth.  A wretched scream, like a man’s mustache being set fire, filled the air, and the wreckage of the train glowed bright blue, and then was still.  Every single drone fell to its knees, eyes smoking, steel sombreros rolling away like stolen hubcaps.

Eridan stopped one with his feet.  “Wwe did it!”

The rebels cheered.  “Noww, howw’s about wwe elect me president!?”

The crowd cheered again, but this time a little less enthusiastically.

Equius cleared his throat.  “Mr. President, could you possibly return my land that was stolen by the Porfirian government to build robots?”

Eridan coughed loudly and pretended he didn’t hear.  “Hey,” he shouted, “Howw’s about you and your folks just set dowwn your arms?  The wwar’s ovver, yay!”

Equius flexed so hard his mustache became even more powerful.  “There will be no peace until our lands are returned."

[ ](http://imgur.com/rkGhBwi)

The time travelers watched happily from the roof of the train.  “So I guess that, just like in America, everything was good forever now, right?” John asked.

Dirk shook his head, and everyone wondered where he’d been for the past couple pages. “Nope.  Eridan won’t give back any of Equius’s lands.  He talks a big game but he’s not a good president, or at least he doesn’t have the opportunity to be one.”

Aradia nodded enthusiastically.  “He’s going to be assassinated, leading to Jack Noir’s presidency.  The revolution will last for many more years, Equius will be martyred, Caliborn will become a good guy, exciting stuff!”

Karkat coughed.  “But after that it’s smooth sailing right?”

Aradia scratched her chin.  “Well…President Gamzee is gonna crack down on the church of the sufferer to such an absurd degree that the sting of his lash is still felt to an extent in modern day Mexico.  The Christero rebellion will cost a great many lives.  Umm, then there is the fact that one party is going to be in charge for almost a whole century, and then the cartels will come into power…let’s just go home!”  Everyone agreed.

 

Karkat lingered at the entrance to the portal.  “So far from God, so close to the United States,” he muttered, before going back.

 

Tune in next time for Dave’s adventure; _The Assassination of Julius Mayor by the Coward Dave Strider._

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t think I specified whether the characters were humans or trolls in the previous one, but if I did then consider this a retcon, and a glimpse into my humanstuck headcanons, i. e. Karkat and Aradia being Mexican and Karkat being an albino but hiding it.  
> I had always intended on turning this into a series but had not thought that the next one would be so soon; the next definite installation was totally going to be American Thanksgiving. I almost did Canadian thanksgiving in honor of my Canadian best friend, but was too lazy. Sorry Poly!  
> I only did this because I was watching a movie with my dad and it turned out that today was Revolution Day. The movie is named after the first song in this fic (which is actually a scene from that very same movie) if anyone is interested…although you’ll either need to speak Spanish or find a version with good subtitles.


End file.
